The Angel
by Foolish Mortal
Summary: And I wept both night and day. And he wiped my tears away. And I wept both day and night. And hid from him my hearts delight. So he took his wings and fled:...A poemfic based on William Blake's The Angel. TxT
1. The Angel

**Disclaimer: I do not own Juvenile Orion or The Angel by William Blake. **

A poemfic; this is new, eh? Oddly, I have a shirt that has this poem on it (along with A Dream Within a Dream and some other poetry -and with pictures of old buildings, angels, and compasses).

I was bored one day and was reading the poem on my elbow and it struck me how much it was like an angst-y pairing of Nakaura and Amou-kun (who, in my opinion, is the only one who has the right to call him Tomonori-san so I will be referring to him as Nakaura).

Also, overlook the 'maiden Queen' part in the poem, will you? The Angel isn't an _exact _fit for my fanfic, you know!

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_The Angel_

_I Dreamt a Dream! What can it mean?_

_And that I was a maiden Queen:_

_Guarded by an Angel mild;_

_Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!_

_And I wept both night and day_

_And he wiped my tears away_

_And I wept both day and night_

_And hid from him my hearts delight_

_So he took his wings and fled:_

_Then the morn blushed rosy red:_

_I dried my tears & armed my fears,_

_With ten thousand shields and spears._

_Soon my Angel came again;_

_I was armed, he came in vain:_

_For the time of youth was fled_

_And grey hairs were on my head_

_-_

_- _

"Tomonori-san!"

Tomonori Nakaura quickly looked over his shoulder, spectacles slipping slightly down his nose and smiled as the blonde boy who lightly jogged to fall in step with him. Pale cheeks rosy with exertion, Amou cheerily asked after his day between laboured breaths. When they got to Nakaura's apartment, Amou scurried off to do homework in his room and the dark-haired man started dinner in the kitchen. Setting the oven timer, he spread his work like a second tablecloth over the kitchen table and began grading papers.

He frowned over one of the tests whose margins were filled with doodles. His pen stopped over a crude drawing of an angel done in the corner of the page and his thoughts routinely swung around to Tsukasa. The boy was getting along well; his bouts of depression had stopped in frequency and intensity with Kirihara and the others surrounding him.

Kirihara, she was the first to accept Amou for who he was, heedless of the damage he done to her past. Nakaura was glad that Amou was finally at ease with his Eraser powers though it hurt him to know that Amou had been afraid to tell him his wings and slightly jealous of Kirihara, to whom the boy had turned to. Nakaura remembered the first time he had revealed his wings. Great pristine curtains that shaded the boy's willowy form in a curtain of stainless white.

'You are an angel sent to me from God,' Nakaura had said and as he remembered this he rubbed at his arms, which tingled from the memory of embracing the beautiful flustered boy.

Beautiful. Had he just thought that? Well…he was. Limpid blue eyes flecked with shards of amber like two great jewels curtained with thick honey-coloured lashes, shaded by finely drawn eyebrows. Pale star-spun hair tumbled over his forehead in sheer messy sheets and a rosebud mouth that always smiled. But the eyes…how could he forget the eyes? It was the intensity and emotion in those ethereal orbs that drew him- no! No, not drew…_intrigued_- yes, that's better- intrigued him so. Glistening with unshed tears, crinkling in joy, wide with an insatiable curiosity. Someone had said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Then Amou's eyes were like twin bay windows set in a house overlooking paradise.

'Sensei,' Kirihara had asked when he had met her for the first time. 'Do you like Amou-kun?' Nakaura had almost taken that at face value but then had seen the blush on Kirihara's cheeks. 'He is very special to me,' he had replied. 'He really is.' How could he have said yes? Yes, he did not just like Amou, he loved him. He loved him with a passion, he adored him, he was enchanted almost to the point of obsession with the high-school boy.

"Tomonori-san?"

"Eh?" Nakaura was jolted out of his reverie and saw the sun of his universe standing at the doorway, looking at him patiently. o-o

"Is dinner almost ready?" the boy asked politely, his hands clasped meekly behind his back.

"Y-yes," Nakaura replied and the timer wailed in agreement. Nakaura glanced down at the paper he was grading and saw to his horror that he had inked out a pair of wings in red pen around the angel's ears. Hastily gathering up the completed stack, he shut them up in his shoulder bag so that Amou had room to set the glasses and plates.

Pulling out the food from the oven, Nakaura slipped off his oven mitts and cut sizeable portions of the casserole and served it, sitting down to wait for his share to cool slightly. He looked across the table and saw Amou, eyes intent on his task as he blew on his food slightly to help speed it along to a cooler temperature. Rosy lips in a perfect circle.

High-school student. That's where it all came crashing down. He was a teacher and Amou was a student at his school, eight years his junior. Not only was Nakaura totally clueless about Amou's amorous preferences but the boy would also never consider someone so old. 'I'm not even human,' Amou had told him. Could Erasers love? Was it even technically possible for the boy to see him as more than a fellow comrade, teacher, housemate, friend, and surrogate guardian? What would happen if Nakaura ever expressed his emotions? Shock, mortification, rejection. And the worst one; separation. He didn't think he could bear it if his angel left him. _It's for the best that Tsukasa lives under the same roof as I do, oblivious yet content. And if he is happy, so am I._

Quickly gobbling up his food, Nakaura put away the leftovers as Amou stacked and washed the plates and cutlery.

"Going to sleep?" he asked Amou as he passed him; the blonde boy nodded. Nakaura himself stifled a yawn; he couldn't even sleep in tomorrow. He was having to lead more and more of his church services now that the other Wiz-dom members were getting intensely involved with defending their faction against the imposing mind-breaker threat. Some of his comrades had already died.

"Well, good night," the dark-haired man said wearily, wandering off into his own room for some scant hours of rest.

"Good night, Tomonori-san!" Amou chirruped and the other man hid a smile. _Tsukasa._

_

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_  
o-o (A/N: Eeew, mushy mushy! Go on, I know you want to laugh at that)

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**Er, I'm too poor and distracted to buy the 5th Juvenile Orion so this fanfic is based on numbers 2 & 4, which I own and 1 & 3 from what I remember from them. **

**I'm pathetic. **

**Blake fans, what does 'witless woe was ne'er beguiled' mean? Foolish despair was never fooled? That does NOT make sense. **

**Please, I absolutely have to know for the next chapter, when I'm going to start applying the poem to the story so that's…four chapters plus a conclusion chapter. Whew! That seems like a lot right now, my other fanfics are going to start complaining!**

**I would really appreciate it if you reviewed. (desperate smile)**


	2. I Dreamt a Dream! What Can It Mean?

**Hallo, 'm finally back! Had to get into that "going to stop shirking and finally do another chapter" mood. Even I find myself rather exasperating once in a while; like yesterday I was bored so I translated and labelled my CDs in Latin. Why? Apparently because I felt like it. **

**Ugh, I'm boring, too. **

**So my soundtrack for Gundam Wing became Cornu Machinae; Military Wing of the Machines. Spirited Away is now Furtivus Ab Manum; Stolen by Spirits. **

**Most confusing is .hack/SIGN. How the hell do you translate _that_? Fictus Rēs; False Reality.**

**I'm just going to do my interpretation of "witless woe was ne'er beguiled" and if it isn't right, you have my permission to: **

**A) Flame my lights out**

**B) Do a fanfiction on The Angel poem yourself and do it your way (probably the right way.) I'll look forward to reading it!**

**Note: Seeing as I haven't read #5 (damn) there's no real time frame for this story.**

**I feel like the characters are OOC in this first part. But hey, it's a dream; whaddaya expect?**

**

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_I Dreamt a Dream! What can it mean?_

_And that I was a maiden Queen:_

_I Dreamt a Dream! What can it mean?_

_And that I was a maiden Queen:_

-

-

"Tomonori-san."

The voice was faint and almost imperceptible. Nakaura turned around quickly and almost tripped on the hem of his dark robe.

Oops, how embarrassing!

But then he frowned and fingered the material; it was expensive stuff. Not like the cheap thin dyed cotton he was used to; this was not so much a robe as raiment.

Then he forgot about it as one of the few angels of his court bounded up to him, smiled brilliantly, and bowed. Amou straightened to speak but then gasped and covered his mouth, blushing furiously. The other man suppressed a smile; Amou was just too endearing when he blushed so.

"Er," Amou's wings riffled uncomfortably. "I-I mean, Tomonori ouja-sama." A/N: I looked up the Japanese word for 'king' on the Internet and ouja is what I got. Do correct me if I've erred.

_What was that?_ Nakaura's glasses practically slid off his face. Was Amou talking to him?

A delicate pink cherry blossom drifted by his cheek and he turned to look around him, robe billowing at his ankles. They were in a garden. It looked ancient; moss snaked through the gaps in the cobblestones and some of the stone benches were in ruin. Yet, the rows of cherry trees brought life to this place; the wind played with the branches and send cascades of fragile petals around them.

"Tsukasa, why are you talking to me like that?"

Amou squeaked. Leaning forward he smiled reproachfully. "You're not supposed to call me that, Tomonori ouja-sama," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Er, yes," Nakaura replied, blushing a little as he remembered. Show no favouritism to your courtiers. Where did he remember that from? . Then memory came to save him. _Just after the coronation, I think._ "Thank you, Amou-san."

Amou nodded politely and accepted Nakaura's offer of a stroll about the gardens. "It's getting colder," the boy remarked and pulled his deep red cloak closer, shivering. Nakaura agreed and after discussing the weather for a bit they rambled onto topics of court, the garden, music, and other similarly pleasant topics.

The dark-haired man sighed. "It still feels strange, being king. I don't even know how, really. Do you think our country would have been better off if I had abdicated in favour of someone else?"

Amou smiled. "Don't think like that. I knew you even before you were crowned. You'll be a wonderful king, ouja-sama."

"Thank you, Amou-san," Nakaura replied again. He couldn't remember for how long they walked along and chatted.

"Oh!" Amou exclaimed suddenly, interrupting himself in mid-sentence. He had an appointment somewhere else. "I'm very sorry, ouja-sama, but-

"-No no," Nakaura cut in, smiling benevolently. "I apologise. I've kept you here for long enough. Goodbye, for now, Amou-san."

"Goodbye, Tomonori ouja-sama!" Amou replied brightly and tried to disguise his hurry with a brisk walk. "Ah!" he yelped as he stepped on his cloak and almost fell into the welcoming arms of a rose bush. Nakaura laughed quietly to himself. Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd had problems.

A quick backward glance and flaming cheeks. And then Amou scurried off; Nakaura watched his retreating back pensively.

Nakaura was getting along well; the old king had died, leaving him as the next in line for the throne. And his best friend Tsukasa Amou was going to stay here at court permanently. _Tsukasa._

_You're not supposed to call me that, Tomonori ouja-sama,_ Amou had admonished mildly, his stunning eyes bright and pale eyebrows lending a mischievous air.

Nakaura sighed. Court protocol dictated it and he could see the sense. Distance was necessary.

But then why did he feel so unhappy?

After dinner, Nakaura found himself on the balcony; everyone else was most likely asleep but this night a strong bout of insomnia had attacked him unawares. The soft wind threaded itself through his hair as he attempted to hook it back behind his ears.

Night.

There was something about it; mysterious yet calming. Alluring and frightening. Things that seemed to be a flower or a tree under the sun grew shadowy mantles and muted colours with the coming of the moon, the master painter. Casting an ethereal glow, an array of subtle hues from her palette as she ascended into the sky to watch her artwork transform.

Nakaura breathed deeply and began to slowly walk along, trailing one hand at the railing and the other at his side. The moon acknowledged him and sent a beam of light down to greet him as she drove away the clouds that suppressed her luminescence.

At the same instant, a small voice near him cried, "Eeep!"

Nakaura violently started and stumbled back in a flurry of black cloth, as did the fellow balcony-haunt beside him. Wait, that dark red cloak. "Amou-san?"

Amou came forward into the shaft of moonlight. That great paper sky-lantern adored him too and included him in her painting, touching his hair with stardust and making his pale skin shimmer as it soaked up the very light that touched him. "T-Tomonori ouja-sama!" he exclaimed, his incandescent cheeks now tinted the colour of roses. "What a pleasant surprise!" He bowed haphazardly, his wings glowing milky-white.

Nakaura smiled and nodded, replying something to the same effect and the two stood leaning against the railing, watching the portrait-like landscape in silence.

"You…you know," Nakaura said after a time. "My advisors called me to a meeting today."

Amou turned to listen to him, one elbow resting against the railing, his chin propped up in his palm.

"It's a sort of tradition that I never paid attention to, actually, but it's done after a newly crowned king assumes the throne."

Nakaura turned to look at his friend, his dark eyes intense. "They want me to get married."

Amou blinked. Then blinked again. Astonishment clouded his features momentarily but he finally managed an, "Eh?"

"Within the next few months," Nakaura continued wearily. "Delegations, letters sent out to the kingdoms, trumpeters, ambassadors, in short, a very noisy mess."

"Oh," Amou replied and in the cloak of shadow, his eyes looked like twin violet blossoms.

"Unless I've already someone in mind," Nakaura said casually, looking down at his tightly laced fingers, trying desperately to ignore the warmth radiating from the angel beside him and how close they were standing.

"That _would_ make everything easier, ouja-sama," Amou agreed, nodding his head, wings shifting slightly around him.

"I have," Nakaura continued and then swallowed nervously. "It's you."

Amou looked at him in shock and then took a few stumbling steps back from the railing. "_What_? N-No, it can't."

Nakaura faced him and smiled uncertainly. "It can; it is."

Amou clasped his hands to his temples. He was trembling. "No!" he shouted. "I don't understand why…why would you- I can't marry you! It will never be!"

"I'll have no one but you," Nakaura whispered sadly.

The boy shook his head violently, pale feathers scattering about him. The angel's face was ashen and the blue eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "What will your courtiers think? You won't have heirs! This will be your ruin!"

"I don't care," Nakaura replied tersely, his mouth compressed into a stubborn line. He took a step forward. "Tsukasa."

"Amou-sa-," the boy corrected automatically but Nakaura interrupted him.

"-No. It's _Tsukasa. _It will always always be _Tsukasa_. I can't bear to pretend that you don't mean anything to me. I can't keep silent anymore and keep on smiling at you as if all I want from you is your friendship."

"I-I don't even know if I can remain friends with you anymore!" the stricken boy gasped and Nakaura felt his eyes prick and his cheeks dampen. Immediately, the angel softened and stepped forward to take the other man's hands. "Oh, no, I didn't…please, _please_ don't cry, Tomonori-sa-, er ouj-"

"-Stop," Nakaura replied, shaking. "Don't…" There was a space of silence.

"Tomonori-_san_," Amou whispered finally, looking away. Nakaura hated it when Amou felt as if he couldn't look him in the eye. He reached out to lift up his chin but the angel jerked away as if he had been burned.

"I can only think of you as my king," he said pleadingly. "Nothing else. Nothing more."

"Not even a friend?" Nakaura didn't recognise his own voice.

"It…" Amou bit his lip. "It's against protocol."

"I can't have your love or your friendship?"

"It's wrong." His reply was barely audible. "As much as I wish…I'm sorry. I can't give you either of what you want. It hurts me to see you like this and know that it's my fault."

"Oh, Tsukasa." Nakaura enveloped him in an embrace but a scant second later, the angel pushed him away. _His_ angel, _his_ friend. Repelling him as if he were anathema. Clouds covered the moon once more in an inescapable jail and all light vanished. "Tsukasa?" the man said with alarm.

A fierce wind stirred up and the cloak rippled about the boy, its folds the colour of blood. No, it was blood, dripping, oozing, matting blonde hair into a crimson mess. Amou held his hands before him, staring in horror at the sticky syrupy blood covering them. And then he looked up at the other man. Nakaura's heart felt like it was being ripped apart. The abject fear and revulsion in those beautiful blue eyes cut him deeper than if a dagger had been planted in his chest.

The angel opened his mouth and screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

"Tsukasa!" Nakaura shouted and tried to reach him but something was binding him back, keeping him from reaching the one he loved. "Tsukasa!"

His head flopped onto something soft. "Tsukasa," he mumbled in distress and shifted uncomfortably, still caught in something. But the wind had ceased to shriek in his ears. He sat up suddenly, breath coming in gasps. A dream. He lay back down and detangled himself from the blankets. It had been like this almost every night; in his dreams, he confessed his love to Tsukasa. Told him everything he stopped himself from saying in real life, tried to make him understand. But the angel always rejected him; he always died, covered in blood.

Nakaura's fears took on different masks in his dreams- in this one they had been king and courtier- but the result was always the same. He always ended up miserable and alone. He always ended up hurting his angel.

Nakaura's breathing finally slowed; he turned to one side and lay curled up in his protective cocoon of blankets, which were unable to shield him from his own dreams. The dark-haired man closed his eyes but sleep did not come to him.

* * *

_Guarded by an Angel mild;_

_Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!_

_-_

_- _

He must have finally gone to sleep somehow because the next thing he remembered was Tsukasa's voice near him, repeating his name urgently. He wanted to go back to sleep- he was tired, so tired- but then caught the worry in the Eraser's voice. His eyes fluttered open.

"Tomonori-san, are you alright? I didn't see you up; I got worried."

_Of course; I'm always awake early on weekends. Ugh, my head._

He felt a soft cool touch on his brow. "Hmm," his angel murmured. "You don't seem to have a temperature."

"I-I'm fine, Tsukasa. Just a little tired, I suppose." But then he started to cough raggedly. _Uh oh._

The Eraser's brow wrinkled and he stood. No, don't look like that, Nakaura wanted to say.

The boy picked up the phone in Nakaura's room and slowly dialled a number. "Hello, this is Tsukasa Amou…yes. Er, Tomonori-san can't come to the services today."

The other man surged up to protest but the Eraser laid placating fingers on his arm. The back of Nakaura's hand tingled at the touch.

Tsukasa covered the mouthpiece for a moment and smiled brilliantly. "Don't worry, Tomonori-san; I'll take care of you."

Augh, how could he fight against _that_! His resolve crashed down around him and he lay back against the pillow. Tsukasa hung up quietly and turned back to the priest. "They said they'll be able to find someone else. Er…I can make you some tea, if you'd like."

"Hmm? Yes, thank you, Tsukasa," Nakaura replied, smiling warmly.

The boy blushed furiously and mumbled, "You're welcome, Tomonori-san," before retreating to the kitchen to put a teakettle on boil.

Nakaura must have drifted back and forth from consciousness as Tsukasa bustled about. He was woken once when he heard a sudden metallic crash and Tsukasa's surprised exclamation and then a second time when the Eraser brought him his tea, steaming and sweetened to his taste. He sat cross-legged across from the boy, holding the cup delicately and sipping from it occasionally.

He was almost through with his second cup when Tsukasa suddenly said, "What's wrong, Tomonori-san?"

The man realised he had been frowning. "Oh, it's just my…my head hurts a little; don't worry about it."

"I can help!" the boy chirruped and set down his own teacup.

"I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself-

"-It's nothing, really. Let me help!" the Eraser persisted but then blushed at his audacity.

Nakaura had to hide a smile. "All right," he conceded.

As Tsukasa inched a bit closer, the priest gulped and tried to quell the flip-flopping in his stomach. Flustered yet determined, the young Eraser reached out and gently put his fingers to the man's temples. As he exerted his power, wings unfurled from either side of his head with a quiet _fwoop._ The boy massaged little concentric circles and then sent some healing power out to soothe away the sharp pain that was bothering his friend.

Nakaura closed his eyes as he felt the soft touch against his skin and the even softer brush of wings at his sides. As much as the priest thought of Tsukasa as the kind easily flustered boy that had lived with him for the past years, whenever Tsukasa used his powers and assumed his true form, Nakaura was reminded that there was another side to him. The side that was a formidably powerful Eraser; the dark past that was tainted with blood, which still saddened his angel to this day.

_But I still love him; the Eraser part of him and the part that I've always known. Can't he see that for me there's no distinction? He's just…Tsukasa. My Tsukasa._

He met Tsukasa's eyes. What would it be like to kiss him right now? To feel those soft lips against his. To have those fingers stop and slide from his temples to cup his face, to pull him closer. It was such a little distance…such a little distance to disaster. His chest still ached phantom pains from where his angel had pushed him away in his dreams. He tried to remind himself that he was pretending that he didn't feel anything other than fondness; it was for Tsukasa's sake. But inside, he knew that he couldn't keep fooling himself and the sadness he felt when Tsukasa smiled at him and affection reflected in his eyes but not the kind of love Nakaura wanted from him; he couldn't ignore the little twinge his heart gave every time the Eraser was near him.

The Eraser flushed slightly as the priest looked into his eyes and slowly dropped his hands, drawing away to smile anxiously. "Is it better, Tomonori-san?"

"Yes, my headache's gone." But the itch in the back of his throat came back again to replace it and Nakaura only had time enough for a "Thank you so much," before he turned away to cough roughly behind his hand.

Tsukasa ran off hurriedly to find some medicine for him and the priest's shoulders sagged in small relief as the boy left the room, though he kept coughing. He had to always be on guard whenever Tsukasa was around him now; some of the times in the past when he had hastily left the room to 'find something; excuse me, it will only take a moment' had been when he thought his emotions would overwhelm him. Nakaura dragged himself to the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face, as if hoping that the water would wash away the unwanted daydreams of taking Tsukasa into his arms.

It was getting more difficult for him to pretend.

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**Comments? Questions? Call 1-800- REVIEW-BY-CLICKING-ON-THIS-LITTLE- UNASSUMING-BUTTON-AT-THE-BOTTOM.**


	3. And I Wept Both Night and Day

**Hello. In case it was a bit confusing in the last chapter, I translated the "witless woe" part into: Nakaura is trying to convince himself that he can keep up his everything-is-normal-and-I'm-happy-really sham but the sadness inside is not fooled. Anywaaay, it was kind of hard to write this chapter because I was thinking about what to do for the next three chapters and my mind went blank when it came to doing this one. **

**Very short chapter, I'm sorry!**

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_And I wept both night and day  
And he wiped my tears away  
And I wept both day and night  
And hid from him my hearts delight_

"Thank you Nakaura-san; that was an excellent service as always."

"Ah, you're very kind, Masaki-san."

Another member of the congregation came to talk with him. "Nakaura-san, glad to see you're back; we missed you last week."

"Thank you."

Nakaura finally extracted himself from the group as they began to chat with someone else. He sat in the pews and listened to the quiet hum of voices but he did not follow the words; he was too busy with internal strife. What would he do about Amou? He gazed up at the alter glowing golden with a huge beautiful stained glass window behind it, filtering in the sun in bright hues, throwing blue and emerald and crimson lights across the faces of the congregation.

The priest laced his fingers tightly in his lap and bowed his head. _God,_ he prayed. _What am I to do? Lord, I…I've fallen in love with one of your angels. It's a sin, I know it has to be but…I can't stop. I can't stop loving him. Give me guidance, Lord. _

There was silence but he was used to that. But there was not just quiet there was _absence_. He had always felt his god near him before but now…

_Lord?_

Nothing.

_Lord, are you displeased with me? I'm trying to end this…infatuation. I love him as a friend but this other kind of love, it is wrong, I know._

But in his heart he did not believe it; this was not obsession, it was something deeper than that.

_Lord._

A priest and an angel.

_Lord, please guide me._

'You are an angel sent to me from God.'

_I have sinned, I do not deny it. _

But did he want his love for Amou to be only obsession?

_I have wandered from the path of righteousness._

Did he want this love to die?

_But please don't leave me, Lord._

…_Please don't leave me, Tsukasa._

"Nakaura-kun?"

The priest was jolted out of his prayer. Looking up from the pew, he saw the sanctuary emptying. He looked to the speaker, a familiar face. "Yes, Father?"

"The morning services are over; you should head home."

Home. Where Tsukasa was. Nakaura's stomach clenched nervously. "Yes, Father. Thank you."

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Amou was in his room doing homework when Nakaura came so the priest very quietly went to his own room and shut the door softly. Then, sitting with hands clasped, he began to pray.

He lost track of time and when he heard a soft knock on the door and the Eraser's anxious voice, he realised that he must have been in his room for a very long time indeed.

"Tomonori-san, is it okay if I come in?" the boy asked.

"Y-Yes."

The door opened; as Amou entered he stopped in mid-stride and gasped. "Tomonori-san!"

And Nakaura discovered what had shocked the Eraser. He had been weeping silently as he prayed. Touching a wet cheek, he frowned slightly. _I don't remember starting to cry._ He was Tomonori Nakaura, priest, math-teacher, and a Wiz-dom. He didn't cry, and especially not in front of Amou.

But he so desperately wanted to feel the presence of his god. _God doesn't abandon any of His children. But then where are you?_

"Tomonori-san, why are you crying? Please, tell me."

The priest shook his head and willed his tears to stop. "N-Nothing, Tsukasa." _Oh, very good; he's sure to believe that._

"Something's wrong," the boy persisted, coming closer. Worry creased lines around his eyebrows.

"I'm fine." But the still-flowing tears said otherwise.

"But-

"-Don't worry about me, Tsukasa." He wanted to reach out and caress away the lines wrinkling Amou's brow- _no! _he thought, horrified at these thoughts.

If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he saw a flash of anger come across the Eraser's features. "Stop it; do you think you need to hide it from me?" Then his eyes softened. "You're there for me always and I thought you knew that I would always be here for you too; you just needed to ask for help." The priest's eyes closed, lulled by his words. _I've asked myself so many times: how can I love him? But…how can I not?_

Tsukasa continued, seeing that his words were having a pacifying effect. "You don't have to be alone. You told me once that you were an orphan. We're both alone in this world; that's why we need to depend on each other and I- I'm feeling hurt. Do you think you can't rely on me to help you?"

The priest was just about to open his mouth to deny this when he felt a cool touch on his face. He automatically jerked away and his eyes opened. The Eraser was sitting before him with a hand outstretched, eyes full of question. Nakaura gulped and gave up the fight.

"I feel like God's left me," he confessed. "His presence isn't there anymore, I don't know what to do. What have I done? What have I done for Him to leave me?" But he knew what he had done; he loved one of God's angels.

"Oh." Amou gave out a little gasp and touched his face once more; this time, Nakaura let him. Gentle silky fingers wiped the tears from his cheeks and for a moment, the man just sat and revelled in the touch. He felt the boy's hand run down his cheek to his jaw, right beside his mouth, and suppressed the urge to shiver. _But it's wrong._

"Tsukasa."

The fingers stopped and he saw the Eraser blush fiery red. As the boy dropped his arms, the priest caught the pale hands in his own. "Thank you; I'm sorry I didn't turn to you before."

The Eraser looked momentarily surprised but then he smiled shyly. "You're welcome, Tomonori-san."

_Oh, if you only knew what that smile does to me._

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After dinner, he had said goodnight to Amou and stayed in the kitchen, making himself a pot of strong tea. Cup after cup he lifted shakily to his lips while staring pensively into space. Would God ever be there to guide him ever again?

_I'll persevere, Lord; I'll do my best to find the path I've wandered from. I'll do my best to please you._

Eventually, he put away his mug and clicked off the light, camouflaged by the darkness as he retired to his room to sleep. He felt his eyes droop as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-------------------------------------

His nightmare had just begun to come to him when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. Thank you, he wanted to say as he blinked owlishly. Thank you for saving me from my dreams. As he sat up he felt his face collide with a white shirt that smelled like soap and violets.

"T-Tomonori-san?" he heard Amou squeak. Nakaura was suddenly grateful for the darkness that hid his own flushing face.

He sank back down onto the blankets and tried to compose himself. Tomonori Nakaura, _blushing_! "I'm sorry, Tsukasa; you startled me."

The Eraser nodded and was probably fighting down his own blush. "You were having a nightmare."

Oh, he had forgotten to close his door. Nakaura waved a hand disinterestedly. "I'm used to them."

"You've had them before? Why didn't you tell me; I thought you said you would turn to me for help."

Nakaura immediately felt remorse. "I'm sorry."

"Tomonori-san; I understand; I have nightmares too."

_Your dreams are nothing like mine. I hope you never have to find out what I dream of,_ the priest thought.

Amou stifled a yawn and then reddened at his impolite behaviour. "Do you want to talk about it?" He sat with his back to the wall, arms around his drawn-up knees. And suddenly, he looked so much older; the light that shone in his eyes was older than that of a sixteen-year old boy, older than Nakaura, even.

"I remember blood," the priest said slowly. He didn't have to tell the boy the whole truth, just enough to shake him off.

"What else?" Amou pressed after a long pause. His remarkable eyes compelled him to speak.

"And the dreams always end with everything being my fault; I always hurt someone. That's…all I remember."

The Eraser nodded gravely, his eyes pensive. "Do-" he blushed a little. "Do you want me to sleep here?"

_No! Oh, God, no! _"That's very kind of you Tsukasa, but no, thank you." The priest unnecessarily rearranged the pillow. "You have school tomorrow; you should go to bed," he added.

"Okay, Tomonori-san." Amou paused and patted his hand lightly before leaving him. The priest stared after him, dazed. As he lay back down, he lightly touched the back of his hand where the boy's fingers had been.

_You are an angel to me._

_

* * *

_  
**Have I stereotyped Amou too much as the 'nice quiet angel'? Oh, and those two that put me on their C2 communities "Purity" and "Golden Fanfics," thanks! **

**(has no idea what a C2 community is or what the hell C2 stands for. Perhaps it's a spin-off of U2?)**

**And I just did the praying part as best I could because I'm not Christian so I have no clue!**

**I've noticed the older/younger Amou thing, myself. Like in Juvenille Orion #4, for example. He looks 16 on page…16, actually, but then he looks younger on pg. 84. Sometimes I find it annoying. And doesn't Nakaura-san look a bit different in that volume, too?**

**I heard that Gokurakuin-sensei did it because some people were having difficulty figuring out if the character was Kirihara, Itsuki, or Amou in some parts. But then why change N-san?**

**Confused.**

**Soo, you can review if you want to.**


	4. So He Took His Wings and Fled

**Amou's POV, finally.**

**

* * *

**  
_So he took his wings and fled:  
Then the morn blushed rosy red:_

The next night, Amou crept silently into Nakaura's room. The man was tossing and turning in his sleep again, caught up in his nightmare. _Oh, Tomonori-san_. What could he do to help him? He would do anything to wipe the anxiety and sadness from his friend's face. But this wasn't as easy as curing a headache; this was something that the Eraser's healing powers couldn't repair in seconds. It might take longer for Nakaura to heal from this sort of pain but if only Amou was able to help him! If only Nakaura would tell him what was wrong. He felt like the man was holding something back. Something crucial.

"I'll wait," the boy whispered. "I'll wait for you to tell me but…" He shook his head, knowing how stubborn the priest could be. How long would it take for Nakaura to finally give in and tell Amou what was bothering him so much?

Amou, without realising it, had sat next to the other's sleeping form and had been idly tracing little patterns on the priest's pale forehead. "Oh!" the young Eraser exclaimed quietly when he saw what he was doing and snatched back his hand, face burning. And he stood to flee.

"Tsukasa," the priest mumbled and his hand flopped to the pillow, by his head. The Eraser froze by the door; Nakaura had been awake this whole time?

"Y-Yes, Tomonori-san?" Amou thought he would die of embarrassment right there.

"Tsukasa," the priest said again and made a little distressed noise. The boy was at his side in a flash.

"I'm here; oh, did I wake you? I was just…ah, I was, erm…" But the man didn't seem to hear his apologies. _He's dreaming_, Amou realised.

"Tsukasa." This time, the name was so wracked with fear and anguish that the Eraser involuntarily shivered. _He_ was what Nakaura was dreaming about? _He_ was the cause of his pain? The boy couldn't believe it. He rose to his feet and took a few unsteady steps back, leaning against the doorframe for support.

_I was wrong; I thought Tomonori-san accepted me but…he-he's dreaming about me as an Eraser, as a harbinger of death, a bloody killer. Yes, that has to be it. 'Thou shalt not kill' and I've murdered-no- _slaughtered_ too many. Too many to hope for even a sliver of redemption. The Kiriharas, the Kusakabes. Oh, how I've destroyed them and the lives of their children! And he's a priest; he can't have me in his house but he's too polite to say so. Does he think taking me in was a mistake? But…he told me that he didn't care who I _was_, I was his family _now._ Was that a lie too, to make me feel better? Oh, Tomonori-san is so kind, so kind to me, always. _

Amou looked to the man lying near him, lost in his troubled dreams. _And I've repaid that kindness by making him suffer like this. I'm horrible, I'm sickening. I don't deserve to live…I don't deserve him. I don't deserve _anyone's_ friendship. Kirihara-san, Itsuki, Kusakabe-kun, Shiba-sempai…_Tomonori-san.

He left the room and entered his own. Dressing warmly, he found his money and put it in one of the pockets. He would go to his own kind, where he belonged. _I've been living in a lie; I thought they could…they could be my family. I thought _he_ could be my family. I was so wrong. So delusional._

Satisfied that he was ready, he went for one last look at the man he had stayed with for so long. "It won't help at all and it seems so insignificant but I want to say I…I'm sorry," he told Nakaura's sleeping form. "I'm sorry for everything and…I hope you'll be happy now. Because if you are, I will be too."

On sudden impulse, he leaned over and smoothed back the priest's dark hair, kissing his forehead very softly.

And then the next minute he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him. The lock clicked back into place and then all was quiet again.

Nakaura groaned quietly and his eyes unclosed, his nightmare still reflecting in his eyes. Rising up on one elbow, he looked around the room near-sidedly, squinting a little and fumbling around on the table for his glasses. He put them on and the world snapped into its normal clear view. Strange, he would have sworn that he had felt a presence in the room before. That creeping feeling of someone else's aura that had affected him in his dream and forced him awake.

But no one was there.

He lay back down. It was probably nothing; just his paranoia getting the better of him.

But then why did his forehead tingle ever so slightly?  
------------------------------------------------------------

_I dried my tears & armed my fears,  
With ten thousand shields and spears._

Nakaura carefully flipped the omelette and listened for the usual creak Amou's door made when it opened. _Good morning, Tomonori-san_, he would mumble, still half-asleep as he smiled hazily at the priest and sat down at the table. And then Nakaura's stomach would flip-flop just like the egg he was cooking.

"Good morning, Tsukasa," he would reply and turn back to the omelette, conscious of the boy's casual stare. He felt like it could burn a whole in the back of his head. _What are you thinking about? _he would wonder then. _Are you thinking of me?_

After breakfast was ready, they would sit opposite each other and eat. Nakaura would sip his coffee and throw fleeting glances at the Eraser when he was sure the boy wasn't looking.

_Why not just tell him?_

And in his daydreams, he did: he stood and walked to where Amou sat.

'Tomonori-san,' Tsukasa said and put down his fork but the priest put a hand on his shoulder. Crouching before him so he could see into his face, the hand on the boy's shoulder slid up to rest on his cheek. The boy reddened but made no move to stop him and Nakaura leaned forward very slowly, looking into Amou's eyes to judge his reaction, as he turned his head to kiss his mouth softly.

The Eraser's lips withdrew a centimetre but then a second later, he kissed him back. The hand at Amou's cheek slid forward to run its fingers through forbiddenly silky blonde hair. Nakaura stood, pulling the boy up with him as he deepened his kiss and Amou clung to him, his eyes fluttering closed. Nakaura thought his angel tasted sweeter than honey.

"Tomonori-san." The voice would rattle him out of his daydream and he would look up to his angel's smiling face. "Would you pass the toast?"

"Er, sure," the priest would answer and weakly hand the plate to the boy. And their fingers would touch, sending a pleasant buzz along Nakaura's arm, to his shoulder, and down his spine. Tearing his eyes away from the Eraser, he would devote himself to his coffee with an almost fanatical desperation.

Shaking himself from the memory, the priest turned off the stove and began to fill some of the dirty bowls in the sink with water. Helping himself to the coffee pot, he waited for his breakfast to cool. And he waited for the young Eraser to stumble into the kitchen and give him a bright sleep-blurred smile.

"Tsukasa!" he called out ten minutes later. "Your breakfast is getting cold." No answer. "Tsukasa?" He went to the boy's door and knocked. "Tsukasa, are you awake yet? You're going to be late for school."

The door swung inward at his touch and he stepped inside curiously. The light wasn't on, the Eraser wasn't there; he began to grow worried. Tsukasa wouldn't go out anywhere without telling him first. He was getting a bad feeling about this. _Tukasa, where have you gone?_

Then he saw the note on the table:

_Dear Tomonori-san, _he read. _Thank you for being so kind to me; tell Kirihara-san and the others I said goodbye. I know I'm the one that's been upsetting you and I know why. I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me before; I would have left on my own. I've repaid your kindness with nothing but trouble. I had to leave. Don't worry about me; I'm going back to the Eraser fleet._

_I'm sorry. _

_Tsukasa._

"Oh, sweet Lord," Nakaura breathed and dropped the note. The boy had found out; how had he? It didn't matter how he had found out. He knew the priest loved him. _He's appalled, scared. Revolted with me. _And now he was gone.

"No," he said, collapsing into the chair by Tsukasa's desk. His nightmares, his fears, they had come true. He couldn't wake up from this; his angel had really truly left him. _I'll never see him again._

"No. No, no, _no_." He covered his face with his hands. "It's not real, it's not real. It's only a dream; wake up!" He pounded his forehead and remembered Amou's cool touch soothing his headache away. He shook his head violently. "Please. _Please._ Let this be a dream. Tsukasa!" He couldn't cry; he had selfishly spent all his tears on himself, pitying himself, yes, for loving the boy. But he should have been thankful; could love like that be wrong? "Is this how you chose for me to repent, Lord?" _I don't care,_ he thought. _I just want my Tsukasa back._

He stood up unsteadily to look about the room. _It feels so empty now; it didn't feel like this before, when I lived here alone but then…I found him that day. And in those years, he's become everything to me. Now it feels like when I don't feel God's presence with me; devoid of silence. I can believe that I've been forsaken my God; I feel horrible that He won't answer me. But my angel's forsaken me too and that isn't just misery. I feel…like I have a hole in my heart; it hurts. _

"I'll-" he started at the sound of his own voice. "I'll do anything but please, give him back."

_He's taken back His angel._ "Come back to me, Tsukasa."

_I loved him and he's left me now. I swear, I'll never love another person like that ever again; not until he comes back or until I die. I'll never be able to love anyone the way I loved him. The way I _still_ love him._

"Tsukasa!" he shouted hoarsely. Suddenly, it felt like everything was crashing down on him. He sank to the floor and lay on Tsukasa's unmade bed. From his pocket, he pulled out a single long white feather and left it on the bed sheet, close to his eyes.

"Never," he whispered and buried his face in the pillow.

And breathed in the scent of soap and violets.

* * *

**I feel sad after writing that chapter. Anyway, three more chapters to go!**


	5. I Dried My Tears & Armed My Fears

**Note: Story has been altered somewhat; if you are reading this again, please check out the Robert Frost poem I've put in. Also, I kind of altered the conversation with the Erasers at the end. You also might want to re-read that because there's going to be…something else. That's all I'm going to say!**

**I got home and for once in my two years of high school, I had little homework over the weekend. THIS IS A RARE AND PRECIOUS GIFT AND I INTEND TO USE IT WISELY.**

**I made omelettes. **

**Oh, and not just omelettes; omelettes, egg puffs and cucumber sandwiches. **

**I think you know you have free time when you can just sit somewhere and drink your tea in peace.**

**Or you can just stand in front of the stove and cook…**

**Omelettes. **

So, I have no idea about Tsukasa's capabilities so for the sake of…whatever, in this next part, Amou's wings let him fly. Tell me if that's really not true and…I'll see if I can change it.

For all of you who have been almost bored to tears waiting on me, I'm sorry!

There is also a little glimmering of something sneaky in here, concerning Nakaura. Everyone, I don't care if you've reviewed before, review again and tell me if you caught it. If so, tell me if I'm being too secretive about it, or if I need to be subtler. I just put it in at the last minute, so please, do review and tell me! (smile)

Disclaimer: I do not own A Midsummer Night's Dream. Obviously. Gosh, this quote is one of my favourites in the entire play.

Disclaimer: Nor do I own The Minor Bird, by Robert Frost.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews.

* * *

_I dried my tears & armed my fears,_

_With ten thousand shields and spears._

**-**

"…Oh, and Sensei?"

Nakaura shifted the phone slightly. "Yes, Kirihara-san?" Mana Kirihara had called his house today during her school lunch-break and had been asking him sundry questions for fifteen minutes. Now, Nakaura heard the tone of her voice change.

As he suspected, Kirihara finally got to the real reason for her call. "You haven't been to Seika in five days; I'm your mind-breaker, I can sense something wrong. With you and Amou-kun, both."

"No, there's nothing," he lied, his grip on the phone turning his knuckles white.

"Ah, but…could I at least talk to Amou-kun for a little bit?"

Nakaura smothered the sob that rose to his throat and tried to keep his voice flat. "He's gone, Kirihara. Tsukasa, he left."

"_Gone?_" She was wildly upset. "I thought he might be sick and you were staying at home to take care of him."

_Staying at home. _"This isn't his home, Kirihara-"

"-Sensei, how can you say that? He thinks of you as a father."

"Yes, a father," Nakaura replied bitterly. How many times had he heard that? "But what if I don't want him as a son?"

"Sensei?"

"_I don't want him as a son!_ " No, this isn't what he wanted to say. Why couldn't he stop the angry words pouring from his mouth? "I wish I had never found him that day! I wish I had passed by; I wish I had never seen him! I'll never forgive him for this; I'll never forgive him for doing this to me! God will never forgive me for loving him!"

There was silence on the other line. "You love him," Kirihara said impassively.

"Yes."

"You hid it from him."

"Yes."

"Do you still love him?"

_With every fibre from which God made me. _"Yes."

There was a pause again. "Go after him, Nakaura-sensei."

"I- no."

"_Why not_?" And for the first time since he had known her, he heard a waver of despondency in her tone.

"Kirihara, I think he left because he found out on his own about my feelings- I don't know how- and…he's disgusted with me. That's why he left; it's my fault. I loved him and I know I shouldn't have; it's a sin. Because of my stupid useless soft heart," he began hammering the place where his heart lay beating, trying to bludgeon it. "I fell in love. Who couldn't fall in love with him? I had to be selfish and want more from him than what God wanted me to receive and now I have nothing."

"You have us; we'll come over as soon as we can-

"-No; I have nothing. He…he's everything to me. When he laughed, I smiled too. When he put his hand over his heart, I felt mine twitch."

He heard gentle wonder in Kirihara's voice. "Sensei…"

"He's my world. And now-"

"-You feel alone." Confessing to her was lightening the heavy crushing weight on his chest but it was only a negligible amount. His heart still pained like it was being ripped out. Like he was lying under a pile of stones, a cairn. His grave.

"…" _I don't just feel alone; I feel like everything that I lived for, my place in life…it's cast me out. _

"Sensei, we'll help you get through this."

"I don't want to get through this."

"He'll come back."

"He won't! This is my punishment from God for sinning!"

She sounded scared. "Stop it, please!"

"I wish I could! I wish I could stop everything!"

"But-

"-_Goodbye_, Kirhara-san," he said shortly and hung up. His feet knew the familiar way to Amou's room and as he hugged the pillow and smelled the boy's lingering scent in the white cloth, he wished the pillow was warm and had arms and legs and a torso, slender and graceful, and soft blonde hair and beautiful eyes and a mouth that smiled, and wings that unfurled to envelope him in a pure sweet-smelling veil of ivory.

The phone rang again but he ignored it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

_I have wished a bird would fly away,_

_And not sing by my house all day;_

_-_

_Have clapped my hands at him from the door_

_When it seemed as if I could bear no more._

_-_

_The fault must partly have been in me._

_The bird was not to blame for his key._

_-_

_And of course there must be something wrong_

_In wanting to silence any song._

-

Nakaura wrote the math problem out on the chalkboard. He could feel pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head, following the smooth lines of powder across the black background. He missed the pair of eyes that he no longer felt. Blue-green eyes.

"So you use trigonometry to solve for x, or in this case, angle A. Remembering that the hypotenuse is 5.66 and the-" he paused and looked back to the class and blinked, shaking his head slightly to dispel the queasy vertigo swirling behind his eyes and churning in the pit of his stomach. "-the adjacent side is 3.845, find the cosine of angle A." He set his chalk back with a dull clunk and dusted off his pale fingers. "Keep working; do the problems dealing with tangents in the next part of your textbook," he said and left for the class next door.

He found the classroom door open and called to the teacher. "Watari-san, could you keep an eye on my class for me; I have to leave for a bit."

"Eh?" The woman paused from her lecture and nodded. "Yes, of course, Nakaura-san."

"Thank you."

-

He kneeled over the sink, dry retching and gasping. But there was no food in his stomach for him to vomit up; he never felt like eating anymore. This was the worst he had ever felt in his life and only half of the sickness was physical; most of it was the tasteless odourless, colourless liquid called despair that was slowly poisoning his heart. The tap squeaked as he turned it on.

The cold water slapped his face mercilessly as he splashed it onto his skin over and over again. Cooling his brow, cleansing his soul.

_Cleansing.__If only that were true. _He cut off the water and felt around for his water-speckled glasses and clumsily hooked them around his ears. As he looked up at the mirror, he noticed that the dark smudges underneath his eyes stood out sharply, like freshly dug loam under twin graves. As he dried his face with the paper towel, he breathed deeply. _I don't miss him. I don't miss him. I'm not wishing he were here with me right now. _

Be careful what you wish for.

_And secretly, a small part of me had wished him gone so I could lay my emotions to rest. _But just as King Midas's foolish wish had taken from him, his daughter Marigold, Nakaura's had snatched away the person he loved more than anything or anyone in the world. His love, his only. His Tsukasa.

There were more water droplets on his cheeks and spectacles but now they flowed from his eyes. Nakaura grabbed another towel to wipe them away. "I miss you, angel."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"There have been some rumours of a virus spreading around those with powers; we're going down to look into it. Israfel, are you coming?"

"Amou," the boy whispered, his brows furrowing. "Uh, no; I- I'll just stay here until the others get back."

The other Eraser shrugged, dark hair gleaming in the light. _But his hair isn't as dark as Tomonori-san's. Tomonori-san's was almost brown in the sunlight as it came through the windowpanes. And…outside when it was overcast, his hair had blue in it. Blue with a pale moonlit shine._

"Huh?" Amou snapped out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, Erykel. What?"

"I said, suit yourself; just tell someone first before you decide to wander off somewhere and get lost. We don't want to have to search for you again, understand?" His tone was stern and reprimanding.

The boy nodded. "Yes, Erykel."

"Hmph," the other Eraser replied and flew off. Amou sat back onto the belfry floor and hugged his knees to his chest. "I did not get lost," he said stubbornly.

He remembered the incident well; he had been flying out with a group of Erasers when he had spotted a flash of black at the corner of his eye. Black as a priest's robe. Without thinking, he swooped towards it, scanning the streets below him as he hunted for…something. He remembered feeling jubilation yet sorrow. And fear, anxiety. Adrenaline had erased all thoughts in his mind, save one; to find his quarry, the flash of black. Hours later, he had been found sitting on a rooftop, staring aimlessly into the horizon before him.

"Where were you?" the Eraser had demanded angrily.

"It wasn't him," Amou had replied flatly.

"What are you talking about? Why did you break from the group; we spent _hours_ looking for you!"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. Don't let it happen again!"

-

The Eraser started abruptly and quickly flew from the belfry, lighting gracefully a few hundred feet away onto the pollution-sullied roof, and not a moment too soon. Behind him, the heavy sweet-tongued bells came to life, pealing richly. Amou lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head, gleaming wings spread across the shingles. He closed his eyes and listened to the thunderous vibrating tintinnabulation as the sun slowly bronzed his pale nose. The warmth made him lethargic and sleepy.

"I won't let it happen again." Today he would go with the Eraser fleet wherever they were flying off to. It didn't matter where. He was leaving.

_Tomonori-san, I…I would be fooling myself if I thought that you've put me to the back of your mind. I hope you'll be able to forget me when I leave this city for good. I don't intend on coming back. I just wish I could see you even once before I leave. _

And closing his eyes, he slept.

-

Nakaura didn't grade papers at the kitchen table anymore. Now, everything went into his rooms. If he sat in his usual place in the kitchen, his eyes still automatically jerked up now and then out of habit to look at the boy who was no longer there.

No, he couldn't grade papers in the kitchen. Presently, he tapped his red pen against his cheek thoughtfully, contemplating a geometry problem. His fingers flew deftly over the calculator and he paused only once to return his sliding glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

/Tomonori-san/

The man gritted his teeth, working more fervently. _It's not real. Happens when I don't get enough sleep. But why do I always have to hallucinate about him?_

/Tomonori-san/

_No!_ The calculator buttons clattered as he punched them a little more forcefully than was necessary.

/It's me/

_Just don't look up; don't look at him. It will go away eventually. Just finish grading your papers; then you can finally sleep and these phantoms will go away._

Still, he knew it wasn't true; he could never get to sleep, no matter how tired he was. Because Nakaura always dreamt of _him._

/Are you ignoring me, Tomonori-san/

The Wiz-dom's fingers slipped and the calculator tumbled to the floor. Usually these false visions never said more than three or four words. Mostly they just called out his name. _I should just keep working._ But the equation he had been writing out did not make sense to him now. Surely eight plus five did not equal twenty-seven.

/I just wanted to…I'm leaving the city. You won't have to see me again./

_What?_ Nakaura's head rose sharply. "It can't be…" His eyes widened. "You're real!" And the sight that met his eyes was more glorious than the most beautiful sunrise, the most breathtaking garden. The most magnificent vista of all was here before him.

Amou's hair seemed to be made of sunbeams and the white garments he wore seemed grey compared to those stunning wings. The boy's face was somewhat different now; it was leaner than he remembered it and the pale skin had traces of rose and bronze in its tint. His jewel-like eyes glittered less; the pupils seemed to have shadows trapped behind the blue and green and amber.

Nakaura's irregular unsteady paces took him closer and closer to the Eraser. "You're real," he murmured incoherently. "You're here."

/I don't know where I'll end up/ Amou said. /But I'm following the Eraser fleet/

"You're not leaving me, are you?" And Nakaura's heart plummeted. _Before, I thought I wanted you gone so I could finally be at peace with myself. But now, I realise that I'm only at peace when I'm with you._

His angel's eyes were sad. /Of course I'm leaving you; I have to leave you. It's the only way-/

"-Tsukasa," Nakaura interrupted him, frowning morosely. Amou closed his eyes for a moment as he heard his name spoken. How many times in the past weeks as he flew in the skies with the other Erasers had he heard the wind carry its phantom voice to whisper in his ear? _Tsukasa. Tsukasa._ And now, he was hearing it from Nakaura's own lips.

/The fleet will come for me, any time now/

"The Eraser fleet? Is coming here, to my apartment!"

Amou frowned. /What do you mean? They'll be at the church, where I am now/

"Church? Tsukasa, you're here in my room." Nakaura felt his suspicions begin to nag at him but behind the doubt, his heart railed against his mind. Tsukasa was standing in front of him…wasn't he?

Unsure, he advanced even more. His nose didn't detect the familiar fragrance of soap and violets. And as Nakaura stepped closer, the wings surrounding him that fell like curtains didn't scent the air like it always did. Scented with the smell of warm milk and honey.

-

Feeling tears at his eyes, the Wiz-dom brought up a hand to touch the boy's cheek. Five centimetres separated the priest's hand from Amou's face. Pale fingers trembled with dread and apprehension.

/Tomonori-san, I-/

Two and a half centimetres closer. The Eraser blushed but instead of smiling fondly at the reaction, Nakaura shuddered. He felt no heat rising from the rosy skin.

/-last time, I left you while you were asleep and …so now-/ Amou's voice broke.

One centimetre apart. The priest didn't feel the pain in his lower lip, despite the desperate force with which he was biting it.

Amou inhaled deeply and seemed to collect himself. /so now, I've come back to say-/

And then the distance was closed.

Nakaura felt no resistance as his moist shaking fingers passed right through the sun-bronzed face. His heart died instantaneously, a sharp piercing jolt.

His angel looked up at him with eyes feverishly bright. /-Goodbye/ he whispered and his image began fading away.

"No…Tsukasa, Tsukasa, _no_!" The priest tried to put his arms around the boy to hold him back. He stumbled forward as he embraced only air.

And then the vision was gone.

_It was only a vision, after all. But if only it had stayed!_ Nakaura sank to the floor, tears blurring his sight. He hadn't let himself cry for weeks. Putting his face into his hands, he wept.

-

Amou woke suddenly and sat up, his breath ballooning in and out. _The dream; it felt so real._ His arms were lying crossed against his chest and he brought them to his shoulders now. Had Nakaura really tried to… He felt the ghost of a hand touch his cheek and shivered with slight deliciousness as he remembered the sensation. _Had_ it been a dream?

Amou had so wanted to see the priest again; was it this wish that had let him invoke the Eraser power coursing in his veins; had it sent his image to Nakaura? Could he even use his powers like that?

He looked over the sprawling pastiche of buildings from his place on the roof. The sunset would come. Rain clouds were amassing from the east; when the dwindling light struck the sky, it would be all fire and flame, grey and purple, palest blue and faintest green and yellow. Suddenly, the foreground would look…almost artificial. The ancient towers and neon-tinted shops would look like cardboard cutouts- a set for a movie- when compared with the swirling colours overhead.

-

'Look, Tsukasa,' Nakaura had said one day when they had been walking back from grocery shopping. Amou had followed the pale pointing finger to the magnificent evening sky they were walking under. 'Look,' Nakaura had commanded, his eyes bright, his cheeks faintly flushed with awe. 'Look at that; what an amazing artist God is.'

'Beautiful,' the Eraser had murmured and Nakaura had agreed.

If the priest had been paying any attention at all, he would have noticed that Amou's eyes had never once glanced up; they never strayed from their focus on him. Not from the time the sun was setting to the time when darkness came and faint stars began to come out.

Unbidden, scraps of words drifted into Amou's mind. His favourite lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream, by Shakespeare. "And-" his voice was hoarse and he cleared it a few times before continuing, whispering the rich words into the air. "-And Helena says to Demetrius, 'Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, for you in my respect are all the world: then how can it be said I am alone when all the world is here to look on me?'"

And the boy remembered Nakaura looking at him desperate hope and longing. Those dark eyes shining with…_something_,he wasn't sure what.

_But you aren't here to look on me._

And the boy felt his eyes sting but he scrubbed them fiercely with the back of his hand so that he would not cry.

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"It's a Wiz-dom virus?" The Erasers looked interested.

"Yes." The E.G.O put out his cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. He looked too young, fresh out of high school, but his eyes were old and weary behind their dark glasses. "It's tricky, hard to detect. It could be in the system for years before it get you."

"Years?"

"Yeah; this thing favours dormancy."

"How does it kill you?" Amou asked. The E.G.O looked around to find the speaker then gave up after a long moment.

"It mutates your cells," he answered. "Uses your own powers to fuel it and eats you from the inside out."

"Any chance it will spread from Wiz-dom to any of the other factions?" another voice called out.

"We don't know; it started in Wiz-dom, but we don't know if it will evolve. I wouldn't worry about it, though. It's just a human virus; nothing that you Erasers will be affected with."

The Erasers looked relieved. "Thank you."

"Well, if that's all you need me for." The E.G.O smirked and waved a jaunty goodbye. Amou turned away as he walked past him. As the informant got into his car and started the engine, he glanced through his window at the sky. "What the-

He took off his dark glasses and watched the Eraser fleet fly up like a shooting comet and become faint pinpricks in the afternoon clouds. He was in awe, in spite of himself. Then, his cell phone rang. He flipped it open.

"Yo."

"Where were you?" said a dark angry voice.

"Eraser fleet Fian wanted information about the Wiz-dom virus."

"Hmm," the man on the other end said, and then, "Did you see him?"

"Who, Amou? No, I didn't. We're going to keep looking for him, Kaname, don't doubt me about that."

"I don't doubt you, Naoya."

"I know."

"See you back home."

"Yeah."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Nakaura picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Sensei?"

"Ah, hello, Itsuki; doing well?"

"Yeah. Kirihara got her first job; has she called to tell you yet?"

"Yes, she seemed very excited."

"Bah, the novelty will wear off after a while." Itsuki's voice was timeworn.

_So speaks the one who's kept up multiple jobs during high school,_ Nakaura thought wryly. "How are the others?"

"Kaname's finishing his master's degree; Shiba is still running his family's conglomerate."

"And you?"

Itsuki laughed. "I get by, Sensei."

_He's not going to tell me what _he's_ doing, of course._ "I'm glad," was all Nakaura replied.

Itsuki's voice became very gentle. "And what about you- still teaching, huh?"

"Yes." And Nakaura knew that Itsuki was following the steps of a very careful dance, the same dance that everyone fell into when broaching a sensitive subject. _The_ sensitive subject.

"Kids giving you a hard time?"

"After teaching you and your minions, Itsuki, they're seem like no trouble at all."

The young man laughed. "It must get lonely there, with all of us gone," he said thoughtfully.

"Hmm."

Itsuki paused. "Do you still miss him?"

"You know better than to ask that, Itsuki," Nakaura chided, trying to ignore the pang in his heart.

"It's been a while," Itsuki said carefully, as if afraid that the priest would explode if he said one wrong word.

"Time makes no real difference." _Contrary to what they say, time doesn't heal all wounds; it just scabs them over and they still fester underneath the surface._

The sharp headache and vertigo were coming again, just as they had so many times before. Nakaura fumbled for some pills from the closet and gulped them down with a glass of water. If nothing else reminded him of Amou, it was this; the violent headaches he got and the cool fingers that soothed them away.

"Every time I answer the phone and every time I hear a knock on the door, I think it might be Tsukasa. Whenever I come home, I look to see if the door to his room is open, if the light is on, if I can hear his tread on the floor. Do you think time can heal that, Itsuki?"

"I don't know, Sensei."

Nakaura smiled humourlessly. "Neither do I." He swallowed. "Say hello to Kusakabe and Shiba for me," he tried to fall back to a light tone.

"I will."

"Goodbye then, Itsuki."

"Goodbye, Sensei."

* * *

**Sorry if the time progression was a bit confusing. Hopefully some people noticed my magic literary device…**

**The phone.**

**Almost every time a scene has to do with a telephone or a cell phone, the time has changed pretty drastically. I was going to have another segment with Nakaura at graduation, but I didn't have any place for it and I'm sure too many references to phones would drive you people crazy!**

**I love my magic literary device. (pets it fondly)**

**If you think there's a lot of crying in this chapter, YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET! (Seriously, tell me if the crying is getting to be too much. I don't think so; I think it suits the fic, but hey, don't let me get too arrogant.)**

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**Okay, review, little angels!**


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